


Sans (as in "without") Sadness

by KritzSanity



Series: Sans' Conclusion [2]
Category: Undertale
Genre: F/M, Happy Ending, Inspired by my girlfriend, Jerry free, Mother's Day, Sad-sap Sans gets the girl, Second person pronouns (you are Sans)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 00:20:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8599651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KritzSanity/pseuds/KritzSanity
Summary: The sequel to my fic "Sans' Nihilism": Sans is pressured to finally admit his feelings to Toriel and has to contend with a new anomalous threat to the timeline. Oh, and it's Mother's Day too. But mainly the other things.





	1. "Anime-zing" night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tarkles](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Tarkles).



> This fic has been over six months in the making, with about 3 versions already scrapped after getting pretty far along. What can I say? I didn't have enough inspiration to use, but now, thanks to my GF, I have more than enough! So she's really the one to thank for anyone who enjoys this, I'm just the guy that wrote it all down into fancy words.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our favorite, nerdy dinosaur tries to convince Sans to spill his guts to Toriel. Metaphorically, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is about the only chapter directly inspired by events from my life. So, there's some trivia for you!

            “I’m serious, Sans!” Alphys exasperatedly hisses at you. A few seconds ago, she was at the other end of the couch, and now she’s practically on top of you. “I… I ship it!”

            “*heh,” you can’t help but chuckle a bit at that, “*remember when we used to work together, al? you could talk my ear off for hours about your otp’s.”

            “What are you saying?” She narrows her eyes and purses her lips.

            “*they were **all** your otp.”

            “That doesn’t change the fact that I believed in them all equally!” She’s squirming in frustration now, on the verge of a tirade rivaling even the most heated of her famous anime rants.

            You sigh and untense as your eyes return to the anime Alphys is playing on the television. Your sigh is immediately overtaken by an inward groan, not only is this anime very surreal in its premise, but Alphys is back to her usual, nosey activities. She’s busy wildly gesticulating and stuttering out every reason you should believe her and you weakly attempt to stop it.

            “*i thought you wanted to watch… what is this? re:zero… with me.”

            “Don’t change the subject!”

            “*actually, it was the original subject.”

            Alphys rubs the bridge of her nose and removes her glasses for a quick wipe down on her Mew Mew Kissy Cutie pajamas. “C’mon, Sans. Why are you so adverse to this?”

            “*you’re right, al. you telling me that tori has a crush on me is some pretty concrete, hard-to-dispute evidence.”

            “Well, will you talk to her?”

            “*no idea about what we’d converse, al.” You’re openly deriving pleasure from her annoyance at this point, and you cross your arms and lean back a bit, satisfied grin spread across your face. If you weren’t kidding yourself, you’d admit to her that this anime is pretty good from what you’ve seen so far, and you don’t usually say that about just any Japanese cartoon.

            “Love? Puns!”

            “*well, i’m glad you’re concerned about our pun talks, but without your intervention, they’re still daily.” Alphys is about to retort, when her head perks up and she looks to the television to see that the episode is over. “Crud… we’re gonna have to rewatch this later…”

            Alphys faces back to you with an inquisitive face, “Well… do you like her?” You keep your eyes focused on the title sequence rolling before you and keep a neutral expression. _*of course_ , you want to say, you want to tell anyone, especially Toriel. _*but what if i’m not good enough…?_ Alphys is shaking your arm now.

            “Sans, are you okay?” You look Alphys in the face and think about the question, the gears turning far slower than usual. “*yeah… what was the question?”

            “Do. You. Like. Toriel?” You turn your face back to the television and inhale a breath slowly, almost painstakingly so.

            “*would you really enjoy a straight answer?” Alphys is clearly taken back by your simple question, as when you look to her, she’s visibly shocked and clearly didn’t expect such candor. “*limited time offer before i gain better judgement.” You give her a quick wink and stretch out your arms and vertebra.

            Suddenly, she explodes into startlingly loud volume right next to your head, “YE-S! PLEA-…! PLEASE!” After you jump back and rub the side of your head, you readjust your seat on the couch and nudge Alphys back over to a distance at which you can’t hear her heartbeat’s cadence.

            “*yes.” You quietly mumble, feeling your heartrate quicken.

            There’s a second of deafening silence before you hear Alphys devolve into muffled squeals and feel the couch shift as she throws her whole body across the arm rest of the couch and kicks her feet into the cushions.

            There’s a part of you that feels a great weight lifted from you and there’s a part of you which feels a cloud of dread descend over you, but for the moment, you favor the feeling of a weightless soul.

            “OMG! You have to tell **her** now!” She whispers ecstatically after she recovers from her all-out fangirling session.

            “*tell you what, al,” you put up a stark, serious face and look her straight in the eye, “*let’s not…” her jaw goes slack at those words and you can see the realization in her eyes, “*and say we did, yeah?”

            It’s a few good seconds of silence before you break out into a snerk and start laughing your head off as you shove your face into the cushions next to you. “GAHHHHHHH! Sans! I swear, if you don’t tell Toriel how you feel… I’ll… I’ll-…” Alphys exhales before plopping back onto the couch from her standing position, looking battered, but far from defeated.

            “*al…” you look at her sympathetically, “*you can’t make threats like undyne still, but it’s pretty endearing that you try.” The smack in the face you receive from a pillow is definitely worth the comment. “Sans… you’re a jerk.”

            “*i know, al. but you can’t do anything about it.” You waggle your eyebrows at her.

            “How can a skeleton even waggle their eyebrows?!”

            “*magic.”


	2. Goat-mother's Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Mother's Day and Sans gets roped into doing the craziest things when it comes to Toriel. But what does that say about him as a person?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Whew* This sure is a long one! Well... longer than the first. Guess it's all kinda relative.

            You wake up slowly, staring at the familiar ceiling as you blink the sleep from your eyes. After a low exhale and a crack of your neck, you sit up in your bed. Yup, so Alphys has got your number now, _*maybe silence would’ve been a good option for once…_

            You rub the bridge of your nose (hole) and retrieve your phone from your nightstand and quickly check the messages:

al-

Soooooooo, lover skele, talked to Toriel yet? Hmmmmm?

You know I’ll just bug you until you talk to her X3

            You shake your head, speechlessly. You can say a lot about Alphys, but saying she doesn’t want the best for her friends isn’t one of those things. Still… kinda rude to harass you about this after literally just telling her:

To: al-

not everyone can confess their “undyne” love for those they care about, al.

weren’t you a little “bass-ful” about it?

lol, just kidding: i know it was the kid’s doing, no need to give you all the “trout” about nothing.

            You know you’re going to get a bit of backlash from teasing her so much, but after all these years, you and Alphys are finally able to be pals, without the dense cloud that is Gaster’s death hanging over you. It’d be relieving if it weren’t so depressing at the same time. Checking the time, you notice that it isn’t even 9:00 yet, and you have the day off. As appealing as sleeping in sounds, you don’t think you can get much more sleep and should just quit while you’re ahead.

            After following your normal routine of wiping the spectral sweat rivulets off your forehead (seems a bit more mist-like this morning), you yank your jacket onto your shoulders and do a slight readjustment before leaving and locking your room.

            “NYEH! OH, DEAR! THIS IS A TERRIBLE TURN OF EVENTS! IS THIS TRULY HOW IT WORKS, FRISK?” You can’t see what the kid is signing, but no doubt it only serves to lightly admonish Papyrus before showering him in twice as much praise. _*heh, as much as the kid can do, talking bad about or to paps ain’t one of ‘em._

            At the first step into the kitchen, you realize that you shouldn’t have gotten up early today: the walls are caked in flour and coagulated dough, there are eggs cracked with their shells strewn across the floor, and despite the rawness of everything around you, a thick burning smell is resonating from every surface of the kitchen.

            “*guys, what the heck have you done?” Papyrus is far too busy smothering a small inferno and Frisk whips around quickly and smiles and signs to you that everything is “100% under control and fine”.

            You roll your eye lights and heave a tiny sigh, ruffling their crusty and powdered hair, “*sure, kiddo. but i still wouldn’t ‘bake’ on that.” you say with a quick wink, rolling up your sleeves. “*i’m assuming tori’s gone, so what’s up? you aren’t usually one to break rules, paps. especially tori’s.”

            Papyrus is replacing his mittens with ones that were still in one piece and minimally singed when he responds, “WELL, BROTHER. I’M… UH, THANKFUL FOR ONCE THAT YOU WOKE UP EARLY SO THAT YOU MAY HELP US MAKE THE QUEEN HAPPY!”

            “*ex-queen, paps.” You add, wincing slightly at the title. At this point, you only say it to remind yourself that Toriel doesn’t like distancing herself, and it makes you happy to think that you aren’t still extremely put off by how out of her league you really are. “*also, didn’t exactly answer my question there. so, why did you decide to enlist frisk to go against their own mother?”

            “SANS, I’D NEVER DO SOMETHING SO CONSPIRATORY! I SIMPLY DID IT BECAUSE… UM… FRISK, CAN YOU EXPLAIN?” The light tug on your jacket prompts you to turn around and get down on a knee to be level with the kid.

            “*so, frisk, what made you feel the need to sew anarchy in tori’s kitchen today?” You raise a brow-bone at them and tilt your head down in facetious wonder. They rapidly begin signing out an explanation about some human holiday meant to express gratefulness for mothers and how she got Undyne to take Toriel shopping for the morning.

            “*mother’s day, huh?” You take an exploratory gaze around the room and check the clock on the wall. “*guess we’re on a schedule, yeah?” Frisk nods with a grim look.

            “*let’s do this then, guess i’m in on it now.” You take a mop from beside the fridge and begin tidying fruitlessly, and choose to add, “*you guys keep cooking. **carefully**. i’ll try and fix what you’ve done so far.” Frisk quickly signs a _Thanks, Dad!_ and beams at you in pure admiration.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

            You never thought that manual labor could be so… manual. And laborious. It’s making your bones ache, but after a good hour of mopping and cleaning up what you could, the floor finally stopped sticking to your shoes and making disgusting noises whenever you walk across it. You wipe the sweat ghosting off your brow and look over to the platter that Frisk and Papyrus finished not that long ago; all in all, it looks edible **and** pleasing to the eye. Pretty good for them, considering the havoc they created only a while ago.

            You hear frantic pattering from the living room all the way down the hall before Frisk comes sliding around the corner into the kitchen, their stance almost animalistic, panicked and skittish, with their eyes darting around the room.

            They begin signing at the speed of light and your eyes widen and you start panicking: visibly more so than Frisk is, at that. _Mom’s coming home! Right! Now!_

            “*oh crap,” you flick on your left eye and look around: the floors are spotless, but the counters are still in terrible conditions, absolutely slathered in a nasty concoction of dough, flour, and powdered sugar. “*j-just go let your mom in… i’ll have it figured out by then!” Frisk gives a reluctantly hasty thumbs-up and scampers out of the kitchen.

            You hear them let Toriel in and her soft voice, clearly having had a good time out today with Undyne. Her soft paws are padding down the hall…

            Closer…

            **Closer…**

            **_Closer…_**

            She enters the kitchen and looks around, surprised to find absolutely no mess. Or, at least, that’s what you expect she’s currently doing from the mumbled, “Oh!” she elicits a few rooms away. You tear off your jacket and throw it into a clothes pile which, thankfully, hasn’t formed a self-sustained trash tornado yet. While you’re at it, you pull of the shirt you were wearing and pull on a t-shirt that was on the floor and A) not trashed, and B) not crumpled to all hell. _*when did i start caring about stuff like that…?_

            Soft footsteps begin to echo from down the hall, towards your room, and in a blind panic, you flick your ribcage and shake the shirt you’re wearing to remove any random gunk that may still be there, splatting gunk onto your bedroom’s floor – as if it weren’t already dotted with unknown stains from when Toriel had purchased the house. You fling open your door with a quasi-calm smile, to find Toriel standing in shock, with her hand outstretched as if she were going to open your door, which is a solid bet in all likelihood. “*heh, hey there, tori…”

            “Oh, hello Sans,” her surprise is quickly replaced by a mirthful smile, “Have you just woken up-…?”

            “*heh, yup, you know me, t, always sleeping in!” you can feel sweat beading up on your forehead as globs of dough slide down your scapula.

            “Oh… yes, I suppose I do know you,” she gives a small look of concern as she says, “Maybe you should go to bed earlier, won’t you, Sans?” She places a paw directly onto your left shoulder, which squishes, causing Toriel to quickly draw her hand back with a shocked look.

            “*heh, sure, tori…” you rub the back of your skull and avert your eyes, before quickly returning them to her dumbfounded eyes, “*and you know i’m not lying! i always wear my ‘heart on my shoulder’.” You wink and shrug your shoulders, only exacerbating the moist food now draining into your joints. _*that’ll be hell to clean out_ , you grimace inwardly.

            Toriel stares at you for a few seconds, then at her hand, before she bursts out into a peal of laughter. “Oh my…~” she snorts lightly, covering her nose in mild embarrassment, only making your already gigantic grin widen, “Well, I doubt that was your heart, Sans…”  she raises her eyebrows pouting her lips, _*oh crap, she totally knows_.

            “I’m sorry,” she giggles, “Was it ‘heartless’ of me to assume you don’t have organs~?” Now it’s your turn to break into laughter, albeit still nervous at first, before evening out into deep chuckling. “*nah, t. it’s not ‘dough’ bad… of… you.” Your eyes widen as you realize that you’d practically told her all she needed to know.

            Looking up at Toriel, you see she’s dawning a self-satisfied smirk as she says, “Well then, Sans: I suppose there’s nothing to worry about,” if it was possible to verbally wink without physically doing it, Toriel surely just accomplished it, “But you probably want to clean yourself off before getting to the breakfast that Frisk and Papyrus made for me, correct~?”

            You feel light blue dusting your cheeks and look downward, faking as though you were merely cracking your vertebrae, “*uh, yeah… s-sounds about right.” She laughs into her palm before you feel a set of lips plant a kiss onto the top of your skull.

            “Take your time then, we wouldn’t start without you.” You look up as she begins to walk away, now unable to control the bloom of magic across your face. As Toriel rounds the corner and enters the kitchen, you see a small blue and pink-striped figure emerge from behind a nearby, conveniently-shaped lamp. Frisk quickly gives a thumbs-up, scurrying into the kitchen before you could retort.

            _*that kid really is something else…_ you blow out a long sigh, thankful for them being the way they are, or else none of this could be possible; even the best of “endings” to timelines were laced with sad undertones and never got far before being RESET. You grab a towel and shut yourself into the bathroom, removing your shirt and seeing the full damage of the ingredients splattered onto your ribcage.

            “*ugh…” a small groan escapes before you can stop it. It’s not like it wasn’t worth it, you suppose, Toriel did look glowing. It clearly surprised her. If that wasn’t worth a little cleanup time, then what is? You begin scraping off that which you can before realizing you’re definitely gonna have to use the shower faucet to power wash your joints sterile.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

            Tugging a much cleaner shirt on, you walk out into the kitchen and see everyone sitting at the table, plates full, but untouched. “*uh… you guys ready to eat?” Frisk, whose head was a few seconds ago flopped onto the table, suddenly darts it up and signs frantically that you’re finally here and both they and Papyrus start tearing into the food.

            Toriel places a marker into her book before placing it aside and removing her cute little spectacles she uses. “Of course, Sans.” she gestures next to her at a plate stacked with food. You slowly saunter up alongside of her and sit down, noticing that her food is completely untouched as well.

            “(*huh… didn’t think you actually meant you wouldn’t eat without me…)” you whisper to yourself.

            “Well, I said it, and when have I ever said something and not meant it?” Her canines protrude slightly from her upper-lip as she grins.

            “*heh,” you never thought of it that way, “*guess you’re right there.” You shrug nonchalantly.

            “Of course I am, Sans! Some say at times I can be…” you tilt your head toward her, feeling the incoming pun. However, so does Papyrus, who has only a millisecond to yell a “NYEH!” of disapproval before Toriel finishes it with, “ ‘Too-riel’ with people.” You both burst into mutual laughter as Papyrus grumbles into his mitten-clad hands, masking his great disdain as best he can.

            As you recover, you wipe away a small dot of moisture that formed at the corner of your eye, “*heh, nice one, tori. i’m gonna have to remember that one!” you begin to dig in to the platter before you and nibble on a bit of everything as you watch Toriel gracefully carve into it with far more delicacy than you could even attempt to imitate. _*wow, that’s freaking endearing…_

            “AHEM! BROTHER IT IS RUDE TO STARE! ESPECIALLY AT QUEE- I MEAN, OUR GOOD FRIEND, TORIEL!” You spasm quickly, attempting to readjust your gaze towards Papyrus without seeming anymore suspect, “*heh, sorry bro. just got a little lost in thought for a sec.” You finish the meal while keeping your eyes trained onto the plate before you, chastising yourself for staring. You don’t usually care about anyone like this! You haven’t for years, for one reason or another. But, Toriel…

            You’re snapped out of your mental self-flagellation by the sound of dishes being deposited into the sink. You steel yourself enough to tear your eyes from the cleaned platter you’ve been practically burning a hole into with your tunnel-vision, jerking it up in a nervous motion. Toriel is at the counter, washing dishes and humming lightly a song that seems extremely familiar, but completely unrecognizable at the same time. Maybe from another life, but certainly not this one.

            You gather up your silverware and plate and soundlessly walk up behind Toriel. You found out the hard way that she **hates** it when you creep up on her without any noise. So, you give a small courtesy cough and place your plate on the counter next to her, “Oh, are you done now, Sans?”

            “*yeah, i’ll have to thank papyrus and frisk later.”

            “Mmm… so will I.” She begins to reach for a plate in the sink before you playfully smack her hand and say, “*nah, t. this is mother’s day, so that means no work. at all. now go on, i got this.”

            She looks at you incredulously, “Are you sure?”

            “*ouch, t,” you place your hand across your sternum, feigning offense, “*have i set your standards that low at this point? guess now’s a good a time as any to prove to you that i’m actually good for **something**.”

            Toriel narrows her eyes and pouts her lips, “That is not what I meant!” she taps you on the skull with her open palm and then begins to walk away, “But… I suppose you’re right, I’ll leave it in your capable hands.” She says with a wink and flourish of her robes as she turns to exit the kitchen.

            You don’t realize it until you let go of your held breath, but when you look at your hand, you see that you bent a fork nearly 90 degrees with pure grip-strength.

            “*heh,” you exhale as you try to bend and hammer the utensil back into its original state, “*i’ve really ‘goat’ it bad… damn.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

            The rest of the day passed by pleasantly, if not a bit shortly. Papyrus and Frisk were in bed by now and you and Toriel are sitting in comfortable silence watching some sort of cooking show, which causes Toriel to occasionally hum in approval, wonder, or some combination of the two.

            It’d be endearingly cute, if you weren’t so distracted. You and Toriel have already been on a lot of “not-dates” and you’ve spent a lot of time together and enjoy each other’s company greatly but-

            “Is it not a little funny, Sans?” Toriel’ soft voice rouses you out of your worrying.

            “*huh, t? what’s a little funny?” you clear your voice, realizing the close-quarters serenity between the you two.

            “All of the times I’d wished to constantly talk to you, and now that we can see each other, we are perfectly content with silence. Strange, isn’t it?”

            You rub your jaw and close your eyes, mulling over the question, “*mmmm. no, i guess that since we can see each other, it doesn’t matter to talk all the time. comfortable silence is a sign of a good friendship, you know?” _*we do have a good friendship… do i have the right to jeopardize that?_

            Toriel sighs fondly, causing you to look over to see what procced it. “I suppose I spent so much time alone, that I had not thought of it so.” You begin to think that you should just man up and ask it. You’ve spent all that time together, so the few “not-dates” you’ve been on along with that add up to more time, right? It’s only natural-

            “Sans?” her tone is… sultry?

            You keep your eyes trained on the television and gulp anxiously before responding, “*tori.”

            “Do you ever think about… the future of things?” You feel her weight shift on the couch towards you.

            “*not… in a long time…” you avert your eyes away from her, tracing an index finger across your chest in a diagonal pattern.

            “I’m sorry, Sans. I did not mean it like that.” She consoles you gently, putting her paw on your shoulder, and you suddenly acknowledge her closeness; oddly enough, you were always so fascinated by flesh-monsters’ heat. You don’t exactly have skin or organs to insulate anything.

            “I meant more so,” she’s now flush against your side and you’re leaning into her warmth, eyes drooping contentedly, “What do you think you’ll do now, seeing as how we’ve been on the surface for quite a while by now?”

            “*i’m not quite sure i get what you mean, t.” You mumble into her robes as she caresses your skull. _*but this does feel good._

            “I suppose,” there’s a pregnant pause, and you can hear her heartbeat increase, “Do you think you’ll ever-…” A loud klaxon sounds from your phone, shattering the moment. _*damn it, al!_ Toriel pulls back and cups her hands together in shock. “Is everything alright?” You pull out your phone and check the notifications:

            **WARNING: TIMELINE HOP IN PROGRESS (ORIGIN – 00974XC [“SWAP”])**

            Your eyes widen. You can’t even remember the timeline in which you set this specific alarm, or for that matter, any alarms at all! “Sans?” Toriel questions, concern lacing her words.

            Looking her in your eyes, you begin to formulate a believable excuse, “*uh… it’s just, uh, alphys. she needs my help at the lab. now. it’s urgent.” A pained expression flashes across her face, or so you think you saw; but as quickly as it came, it went, and her face shows benevolent concern and she merely says, “Alright, Sans. It is quite late: but if it’s urgent… Just stay safe!”

            You despise lying to her, but you have no reason to drag her into timeline nonsense, especially if it’s just some dummy alarm you created in grad-school and it means absolutely nothing. Winking, you say to her, “*when has my name ever been synonymous with ‘danger’, tori? heh, i’ll stay safe, see you in the morning.”

            “Yes,” she looks as though she wants to say much more, “’See you’, and when you return, could we talk?”

            “*uh, sure, t.” You give a quick salute before teleporting out of the house and all the way back to your old lab, behind your house in Snowdin.


	3. The Man in the Machine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans fights a to protect his friends and family from a new anomaly threatening the timeline.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This. This was necessary. In fact, aside from mindless Soriel-fluff garbage, it's the main goal of the fic.

            You grimly stomp over to the machine hooked up in the corner: the piece of scrap that you’ve time and time again failed to fix. The machine that could’ve… well, no use in dwelling on things you can’t possibly fix, especially when you aren’t even close to as smart as you were under Gaster.

            You look away to the left, slowly starting to drag your feet over to the counter and pull out a cabinet about 5 feet. You find a large machine giving readouts on paper. It looks like a seismograph almost, but it gives readouts on timelines instead. You pour through the old results of this timeline: straight, of course. Can’t record your own timeline when it’s subject to being RESET. You never saw the point in this thing, but Gaster sure did.

            You quickly type in the code your phone gave you. The “Swap” universe; you never asked Gaster how or why he named universes with monikers like he did. But the guy most assuredly knew more than he let on.

            You pause at the last number. _*who is the sans in this universe? does he know about the RESETS? or is he carefree and unbidden by a sense of justice for defending his timeline?_ Even without knowing the answer, you assume the latter and feel a pang of jealousy for this other Sans. As good as everything turned out, all the heart ache begs the question of whether it was worth it: but if you had to choose between all the pain and a good ending, or no struggle and a crappy one, you’d choose the former in a heartbeat every single time. You suppose that makes it a moot point and there’s no use in dwelling on it.

            You suddenly feel hollow and somewhat broken; not that that’s a new feeling, per say, but it creates seismic pangs of magic that echo through your ribcage. You grip your chest and focus on the task at hand, _*can’t slip up and quit now. that’s for later._

            You finish inputting the code and the machine readout skitters for a second before changing the line’s color and giving a straight line, not too different from your timeline’s. It’s small at first, barely noticeable to anyone who isn’t properly versed in the technology, but the pressure of the line is fluctuating at weird intervals: at some points, it comes dangerously close to disappearing from the page. A decisive smack on the side of the cabinet does little to remedy this and you have no idea what such a thing means. Then, a small burst of movement occurs within the machine’s inner-mechanisms and the line staggers slightly, making the readout jagged.

            Your eyes widen in supposition. “*that,” you begin soliloquizing, pacing a few feet from the drawer, “*that can’t be normal…” You never used this thing after Gaster was wiped from the timeline, that was when the RESETS first began: it wasn’t a good time in the Underground, first, the humans stole your hope for freedom in the form of the prince and the first human child, then the greatest monster mind to ever grace those glorified caves disappears from reality itself.

            It gives you some sort of grim hope, knowing that after even the darkest moment in monster history (second only to that of being pushed Underground, of course) - you still prevailed and somehow got to the surface. And as far as anyone is concerned, the kid got it right on the first try.

            Ear-grating facsimile tones sound sharply in the stark silence of your lab, causing you to start slightly and spin around to see the readout: a bigger deviation just occurred, and the frequencies are getting close to your timeline’s numbers, threatening to cascade together.

            Attempting to scavenge your mind for any knowledge Gaster may have said only produces hazy, half-forgotten images of his cracked smile and other useless intricacies that don’t help the current situation. _*he was always such a crappy dad, choosing work over papyrus and me, but leaving this curse to me and me alone?_ Tearing through the adjacent drawers, you find a few worn journals and a single book.

            “*quantum multiverse theory and its… application to anomalous entities?” _*one of g’s books? where did i…?_ If memory serves correct, and in this case, it does, all his findings among everything else he ever created in any capacity should be gone, the only things excluded being Gaster Blasters and the CORE. You pull up a stool and begin by flipping to the first page as the machine grinds out another, more staggered reading with an evidently large amount of difficulty - if its volume is any indication.

            “*welp, better hit the books-…” the machine jitters and ejects another spazzy readout. Your eyes widen even further and you gulp slowly. _*if it’s giving readouts so quickly…_

            Your eyes scan the page at three times the pace you normally would and you keep glancing up at even the slightest of stutters from the machine in the early hours of the morning.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

            **Extremely far away… but not really, just back at home:**

Toriel awakens slowly, anticipating to find Sans passed out on the pull-out couch, perhaps not even pulled out, as he often does whenever he helps Alphys at late hours in the lab. She preliminarily peaks the corner and is understandably disappointed, realizing he had not in fact come home. At least…

            She glides over to Sans’ room and knocks lightly, but with enough force to where hopefully Sans may hear it and rouse from one of his odd half-slumbers. “Sans? Are you awake?”

            She hears light rustling and assumes he’s attempting to unravel himself from his sheets; then, while she would normally wait or ask for permission, she pushes the door open slowly, hoping to see a short skeleton adorably entangled into his bed spread. Instead, she finds Papyrus mutely scooping up clothing from Sans’ floor.

            “Um…” Toriel feels as though she is intruding on something, but at the same time, feels as though Papyrus may feel the same. At the sound of Toriel, Papyrus quickly whips around, dropping most of the clothing he held seconds ago.

            His eyes widen and then are quickly dashed to the side as he begins to whisper, “T-TORIEL, PLEASE DO NOT TELL MY BROTHER!” He fidgets nervously before straightening his posture and folding his arms behind his back, “I… WAS MERELY…” He sighs deeply and slumps over in defeat. “I WAS ATTEMPTING TO CLEAN HIS ROOM WHILE HE WAS NOT HERE! I AM TRULY A DECIETFUL TRAITOR OF A BROTHER!”

            Like most times, Toriel finds Papyrus’ hammy demeanor innocently hilarious and can’t help but giggle into her palm, much to his confusion. “It’s alright, Papyrus,” she composes herself to clearly enunciate, “It will be our little secret from Sans!”

            Papyrus goes from slack-jawed to having a conspiratorially devilish grin, “NYEH HEH! OF COURSE,” Papyrus lowers his voice to a raspy whisper, “AND I WILL NOT TELL SANS THAT YOU STILL KEEP A JOURNAL FULL OF PUNS TO KEEP UP WITH HIM.”

            Toriel’s cheeks flush, and then quickly fill with color as she mumbles out, “O-of course… Papyrus.” She promptly leaves Sans’ room and closes the door hastily before he could say any more and feels her cheeks with her hands, hoping that they won’t stay that shade forever. She began to ponder whether Sans was purposefully avoiding her, knowing what she was going to discuss, but such thoughts only disheartened her and dragged her down.

            Frisk exits their room down the hall and, while rubbing their eyes with one hand, lazily signs a good morning to Toriel with the other.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

            …

            …

            … _*where am i again?_

            Picking your head up from the counter, you remember having barely gotten through Gaster’s book, picking out only a few choice bits of info and completely disregarding the rest.

            You rub your eye sockets with balled phalanges and stretches out, popping every vertebra along your spinal cord. You flip back to the general area in which you found some helpful tips: in Chapter 27 – Timeline Anomalies. Following along with your index finger, you find the excerpt you were searching for, “If abnormal readings are recorded in a universe within (but not limited to only) 1000 tachyons of your host timeline, then action must be taken to ensure protection of the slipstream on which time resides,” _* wow, g, always so long-winded_ , “(Such measures can be found on page 372).”

            Flipping to that page, you almost burst into ribbons at the title: Chapter 40 – A _Time_ for Action. You smile bitterly at the pun, knowing you never even got to tease Gaster about it. Or congratulate him. Or anything for that matter…

            Another two machine fluxes in quick succession sound before you look over and realize that it is dangerously close to colliding with your timeline; less than 100 tachyons at that. You have no idea what it could mean. _*g must’ve lost himself in the wording because he sure as hell never explained what would happen if two timelines overlap!_ You’re beginning to shake and you have the overwhelming urge to fling the book across the lab. And somehow, the resounding bang it thrums into the reinforced walls grounds you in reality, and you realize how to beat any anomaly.

            You stand up and darken your eye sockets, spawning Gaster Blasters around you, unsure of where the anomaly will appear if it even shows up in Snowdin - or the Underground - for that matter.

            A horrible noise that can only be described as the absence and deficit of sound itself begins to fill the space around you, edging static around your vision. You slowly and methodically rotate in a periscope motion to survey the range of the whole lab, taking care to inspect every corner and shadow.

            After about a minute of being alone in the lab, you feel a presence in the chilled room that somehow only lowers the temperature and causes the air to permeate your bones to their core. “*are you actually afraid?” strange, garbled language is whispered next to your ear and you blast a hole into the wall to your right, continuing, “*why’d you come here, hm? didn’t have enough fun torturing some other timeline?” As foreign babbling clicks from behind you and the light in the room begins to seemingly drain, you spin around to face your attacker.

            Their whole form is one large shadow, growing vertically by the second into a slender and menacing cadaver, dripping with black goo, perpetually being drawn back toward it and absorbed into its body.

            The Gaster Blaster engines slowly begin to draw in energy and their humming begins to compete with the thunderous sound-consuming void before you. Then, as if prompted by some invisible force, the creature begins to complete its shape as its orchestra of silence begins to fade, permitting sounds to be heard. A white, cracked countenance slips out of the constantly-dripping tar that is the anomaly’s body, followed shortly after by two articulated forms only able to be discerned as hands… with gaping holes in the middle of the palms.

            You drop your hand and de-spawn the Blasters, exhaling a frustrated-relieved sigh, “*heh,” you look up at the two black holes adorning the white mug before you, “*hey, g. you’ve really ‘goop’ a lot of nerve showing up like this, unannounced.”

            “I hope you aren’t too ‘flabber-gastered’!” Gaster’s grin stretches into a self-satisfied smirk, accentuating the fine cracks on his face, before he releases a belt of distorted laughter, bending into it with his whole body.

            “*heh, i missed ya, dad.”


	4. About time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introducing the girl to your parents is always difficult, but the opposite is far more challenging. At least in Sans' case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is totally fiction at this point. But it's the sentiment of how I was inspired that counts! Right?

            It’s about a day later than you’d hoped to return, but the slender and only moderately-goopy skeleton standing behind you made it all worthwhile. You rap your knuckles onto the wood with a small amount of force, which still reverberated through the house with astonishing volume. After waiting for what felt like forever, you started to wonder if everyone had gone out somewhere, a feeling that, while it was unwarranted, sent a twinge of pain through your soul at the possibility of no one worrying where you might be. _*selfish…_

            Just as you begin thinking of simply teleporting into the house and sitting in sullen silence with Gaster until everyone returns, the door tumblers twist and click, before the knob twists, the door swinging open with a warm breeze.

            “Sans? Where have you-…?” Toriel begins to scold you, as expected, before noticing the baroquely-clothed skeleton looming behind you. She slowly leans down within earshot, without removing her eyes from Gaster, and whispers to you with a cupped hand, “(Sans… are you alright? If you are in trouble, simply cough and I will dispatch this stranger.)” The fierce look in her eyes both excites and terrifies you. But mainly the former: Gaster could hold his own against even a Boss Monster like Toriel, but the fact that she’d be so protective of you… it stirs something in you that is best dealt with after you tell Papyrus that your dad is back.

            You snort lightly and return the cupped-hand gesture while whispering, “(*nah, i know this guy. maybe it’d be better to gather frisk and papyrus to go over it first.)” Placing your hand back into your pocket, you regard Gaster with a simple head movement, “*this, tori, is the ex-royal scientist, wing din gaster. or, as i know him, my and papyrus’ dad.”

            Toriel dawns a look of confusion as she returns to her normal height, but it is quickly replaced with an incredulous look with her mouth in a hard “O” shape her eyes sparkling in wonder. “Oh!” she finally exclaims, after a few seconds of making Gaster squirm under her gaze, “Of course! I’ll get them both and put the kettle on, please, come in Mr. Gaster!”

            “Thank you, Mrs. Dreemurr, you’re a gracious host. I see you have kept your regal demeanor, despite freedom from the Underground.” It completely slipped your mind to tell Gaster not to call her Mrs. Dreemurr, but from the barely-flinching expression she wears, you can tell she’s not letting it affect her, most likely for you; she must not want to lay into your dad after he’d only just came back from the dead. Technically speaking.

            She leads both of you in and you show Gaster to the living room, “Did I say something wrong, Sans?” You’re mildly shocked that he recognized anything was wrong.

            “*well… she and asgore are kinda… um…”

            “Oh my!” Gaster’s expression is absolutely horror-stricken, “I completely forgot! Ugh… and to think I saw it all practically firsthand…” You raise a browbone at that.

            “*what was that, g?” you drop onto the couch and lean back, planting your butt firmly into the rut you’d already created, “’firsthand’?”

            “Well, the more left unsaid the better. But, for a time, I was a mere observer of this universe. That is, until I attempted my escape of the void. A process you saw for yourself, and that was not the first timeline I had to momentarily bridge to cross.” Your eyes darken at how ominous he let that sound, and he catches it almost immediately, “Sans! Don’t worry, I did not affect the universes in any way while there and nor had I harmed or destroyed them or anyone within them!”

            You blow a high whistling note, “*heh, got my heartrate up there for a sec, g. didn’t know if i made a mistake holding back earlier.” You wink at him.

            “Hm. Well, I still invite you to try sometime.” he winks back lighting both irises up with cyan and tangerine tints. He chooses to stay standing, surveying the home with a curious glint in his eye; seems like Toriel is still trying to get Papyrus and Frisk’s attention from some sort of puzzle, based on the jubilant cheers and raucous jeers (both from Papyrus) coming from a few rooms away.

            “You know, Sans,” Gaster is coyly avoiding your gaze by inspecting his nails and keeping a neutral face, “I had kept up with you and Papyrus until your exodus from the Underground.”

            “*huh, is that so?” you cautiously think aloud.

            “Yes, I may not have been able to follow you out of the Underground, but I’d kept up with both of you until that point. For every. Single. RESET.” Your blood runs cold with where he may be going with this. “I understand that that is no longer a threat. However…” He looks at you knowingly.

            You sink further into the couch under his parental gaze, “I believe that ex-Queen Toriel would be a fine daughter-in-law.” His cragged grin threatens to break under the force at which he’s tugging it.

            “*you…” you stand up and point a finger at his chest, “*omniscient bastard!”

            “Actually, my view was quite limited. It took little supervision to realize your feelings for-…”

            “SANS, LANGAUGE! AND IN FRONT OF A NEW GUEST AT THAT.” Papyrus chimes in from the doorway, arms crossed, while he dawns a judgmental glare.

            “I must agree with your brother, Sans.” She walks out from behind the corner, with a far more convincingly judgmental glare, causing you to rub the back of your skull in embarrassment.

            “*s-sorry, t.” Frisk, meanwhile is marveling at Gaster, but with a look about them that makes you think they know more than they let on; when you catch their gaze, they sign to you _Ooooh, you’re in trouble with mom!_

            You put your hands onto your knees and look them in the eye, hunched over slightly, “*i’d remember that next time **you** get in trouble with tori and want my help.” At this, their face goes blank and they simply sign _Dork_ , sticking out their tongue afterward.

            “SO, SANS, WHO IS THIS GENTLEMAN YOU HAVE BROUGHT HOME WITH YOU? A WORK FRIEND?” Papyrus’ hands are placed on his hips, a stance which you recognize as a prelude to a him striking a heroic pose to impress and dazzle new friends.

            “*oh, well, ya see pap, this,” you look over at Gaster, who exchanges an anxious look with you, “*is our dad, wing din gaster.”

            Papyrus’ face goes from one of tactical-superiority to a slack-jaw in record time, which you may have joked about if he hadn’t immediately launched towards Gaster, causing him to flinch slightly; Papyrus lands on his knees as he embraces Gaster at hip level and begins incoherently sobbing about how he knew he had a dad and that he’s so sorry he didn’t look for him sooner. Meanwhile, Gaster is awkwardly patting Papyrus’ back, consoling him at about half the rate that Papyrus is condemning himself.

            You and Toriel look on, and while you can’t speak for her, you’re ecstatic that Papyrus finally has a dad. You were always just a pale imitation of what Gaster could’ve been to him if he had stayed around and focused a bit less on lab work. “So, Sans, to what do we owe your father’s return, and where has he been?” _*oh, yeah, should probably explain that._

            “*well, uh, like i said, you may not remember it, but he was the royal scientist before alphys,” Gaster looks at you, wide-eyed and clearly trying to relay to you to keep out some details, “*uh… and he… well, an experiment went very badly and he was wiped from the timeline and almost everyone’s memories but mine.” You shrug it off nonchalantly, as if things like that happened every day. _*oh god, who’s to say it doesn’t?_ Toriel nods, content with such a cryptic answer, “Well, I would not understand the type of science you are so versed in, Sans, you’re quite a genius.”

            At this point, you’re almost sure she’s trying to get a reaction from you, and damn it if it isn’t completely working. You ignore the magic buzzing in your skull and dancing on your cheeks in favor of changing the subject quickly.

            “*s-so, anyways,” you drive both hands back into your pockets and straighten your posture to address everyone in the room, “*how about we go out for ice cream to celebrate? my treat. it isn’t exactly every day you beat the laws of time and space to reunite with loved ones!” Papyrus, who’s dripping with a light coat of void residue, and Frisk exchange giddy looks before Papyrus scoops the kid up and sprints out of the house to the car, shouting the whole way every flavor he wants to get. Gaster chortles lightly, turning to you, “That’s common place with Papyrus, isn’t it?” Normally, when people ask something along those lines, it’s dripping with sarcasm, and you’d readily dunk them into tomorrow - but when Gaster asks it, he has a gleam of adoration twinkling in his eyes. Then, almost as an afterthought, he adds, “Perhaps I should clean myself of this gunk when we return…”

            “*heh, it sure is and that may be a good idea, g.” Toriel begins to walk after Papyrus to the car, before you stop her by grabbing her hand swiftly, even surprising yourself, “*hey, uh, t. wait up. i wanted to ask you something…” you shift the tiny box in your pocket, quickly glancing over at Gaster to give him a hint. His eyes widen in enraptured surprise and the glimmer is just as quickly replaced with familial pride as he whispers in Wingdings, “Didn’t expect you to still have it, son. Good luck.” before placing his hands behind his back and strolling to meet the others outside.

            Looking back to Toriel, you notice her brow is furrowed as her head turns to meet your face, trailing slowly from where Gaster had exited, “What a strange man,” she’s startled at her own admission, not expecting to say it aloud, “Oh! No offense, Sans! He is your father I reali-…”

            You hold up a hand, “*it’s alright, t. i think he’s the biggest weirdo ever.”

            “Well, I’m glad I didn’t offend~.” She giggles as she speaks with bubbling vitality. You rotate and map out the tiny container in your pocket with your fingers mentally, getting a feel for every groove, edge, and impurity along its surface.

            “*well, i wanted to ask you something real quick, t. i’ve kinda been putting it off.”

            “Is that different from usual?” she jests, hands folded before her, a tenser posture than her words would indicate. You scoff sarcastically, “*ah! well, you got me there, tori! not very fair to state the obvious though.” you wink, trying to think any further ahead, but you’re drawing a blank.

            Toriel merely snerks at that and waits for you to proceed. “*so… we’re, uh, pretty close yeah?” Your bones are beginning to smolder with magic, “*that is to say… we have a lot in common, we’ve spent a lot of time together, even if the time seems a bit short, right…?” you stop yourself there to prevent interminable rambling.

            “Of course, Sans! You’re one of my greatest friends and closest confidants.” Toriel bats her eyes and looks down, as if she were embarrassed to openly admit it.

            “*well, same, t. but it isn’t exactly a secret that you mean a lot to me.” You steel yourself and force your eyes to gaze into hers. “*what i’m trying to say, t, is that i’ve already wasted a good chunk of my life doing nothing. you’ve made me accomplish so much, no matter how badly i wanted to quit, you kept me going.”

            Toriel is hiding her face behind her hands now, either to mask her blushing or prepare for what she might think is coming next, “*that all being put out to dry…” you drop to one knee, as if her height didn’t allow her to dwarf you before, “*i want to spend the rest of my life with you, not wasting another second, and starting now.” You reveal the box and crack it open, holding it up to her, “*will you marry me, toriel?”

            “…”

            “*…?”

She simply stares down at you, wide-eyed and both hands covering her mouth. You can’t tell what she’s thinking at all and it terrifies you to your very core. Icy regret begins to creep into every rib along your sternum, _*i can’t take it back! i can’t take it back…!_ You keep your eyes trained on her feet and begin to slowly, but very visibly, freak out, your breathing becomes fast and ragged, drowned out by your racing heart, and you shake with visible angst.

            You decide to pipe up to break the torturous silence, “*um, t? a-anything would be appreciated. anything but…” You look into her eyes, noticing that she’s in as much shock, if not more than, you are - her eyes hold a glossed-over look, almost as if they were coated with a euphoric filter, as she slowly blinks away the empty, thousand-mile-away look from her irises.

“Sans…”

            “*y-yeah, t?” you gulp an imaginary lump down, only stifling its seemingly-exponential growth.

            “Knock knock.” She drones out with a neutral expression.

            “*who’s there, tori?”

            “Wife.” Your hope begins to hesitantly swell and your mind begins to swim with what she could say next, burning with the anticipation of her next words.

            “*wife… who?” You ask, with a despondent tone, _*maybe i could just play it off if she says no. i must be able to._

            She takes a tentative step forward, pausing a millisecond before finishing her stride a few inches from you. Biting the corner of her lip, she kneels to your height in a swift motion and plucks you off the ground and into a tight embrace, which you quickly return, after snapping out of the daze that the simple action caused.

            “’Wife’ you not asked sooner!” she quickly dissolves into a fit of giggles and you follow shortly after, nuzzling into her shoulder with your eyes shut in relief.

            “FRISK WANTS TO KNOW WHEN YOU’RE GOING TO KISS ALREADY!” Toriel turns her body, and subsequently you with it, towards the doorway that’s crowded by Papyrus, Frisk, and Gaster on the fringes, melting to the side of the door frame he’s clinging to.

            Looking over to Toriel proves what you’d already suspected, her eyes are downcast and cheeks brushed with pink. _*time to take charge, no time like the present, right?_ you internally ponder before taking a sharp breath, grabbing both sides of her face and turning it towards you, before deeply kissing her.

            You’re a bit disappointed at first, seeing as how it still hadn’t registered in your mind what you were doing, before…

 _*ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…!_ you moan lightly, but it’s covered up by Toriel’s resounding groan, along with Papyrus’ cheers, meant to symbolize both his and Frisk’s jubilant victory cries.

            You couldn’t, for the life of you, tell someone how long you were in that position, literally suspended in the air, before you both realize there are other things to do, _*not like we can’t continue later if we want._

            Toriel lowers you to the floor and you’re able to just barely regain your footing after such a brain-scrambling experience. For a few good seconds, you attempt to start talking again and are only able to stutter and mumble out tongues and broken English while Toriel looks at you, as sheepishly as you’ve ever seen her. You clear your throat and take a deep breath before attempting to speak again, “*so, how about we go get some ice cream to celebrate **everything** that happened today?”

            Toriel nods in agreement and whispers in a light-hearted and enamored tone, “Yes. I suppose it is time to go.” She glances over to the doorway with one of her infamous narrow-eyed-mother stares pointed mainly, but not exclusively, at Frisk, “But it seems **some** nosey children will only be getting a small portion for intruding on such a private moment!” Frisk, of course, responds unashamedly by shrugging it off and grinning a bold-faced cocky smile that would rival even one of your greatest facades.

            You all walk outside, with you bringing up the flank to lock the door; Gaster is waiting a few feet from you, taking painstakingly tiny steps, “Clever, Sans. Very clever.”

            You wave him off flippantly, “*i don’t know what you remember about me, g. but i was never smart. just always had a good memory.”

            “A good enough memory to remember not only me,” he raises a finger in the air, and swings it down at you in one motion, “But where I kept your mother’s ring after she’d fallen! I will still never understand how some artifacts of my life survived while others are simply dust in the wind.”

            Now, taking your cue to show off your basic common-sense, you point your index to your chest, “*actually, that i can explain, g.”

            “Oh? Well, please by all means.” Gaster gestures around him and steps back, as if to give you the floor.

            You facetiously accept the space he provided and cough into your hand before bluntly saying, “*it’s just magic, g. no need to be so analytical all the time, ya know.” Where you expect Gaster to scoff and heel turn, he instead responds with laughter and a pat on the back: showing you just how much his time in the void must have changed him.

            “Let’s go, Sans, the others must be waiting.”

            “*heh, yeah, no need to keep them in ‘sans-pense’.”


	5. It's okay when I'm "wed" you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The denouement of the story draws near, as the author desperately attempts to orchestrate it all together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You've made it this far! Almost there! C'mon, I'll meet ya at the bottom.

            Standing at the altar, surrounded by friends and loved ones, and you’ve never been more panicked. You like to think that you’re pretty good at keeping it together most times, but Papyrus can tell you’re about to lose it and places a glove on your shoulder, “SANS, IT WILL BE FINE,” you look up at him with a wavering smile and a weak thumbs-up, “BUT IF YOU WILL NOT TRUST YOURSELF… THEN TRUST ME! I WOULD NEVER LET THIS GO HORRIBLY WRONG!”

            You chuckle and look to your feet, shifting and squirming in your fancy get-up: you don’t mind having to dress up every once in a while, but on such a stressful day, you’re itching and jumping at every prickly thread in your suit.

            Orchestral music blares from the organ nearby, Undyne prickling the ivories with a manic smile, but still refraining from slamming the keys in a burst of righteous energy. You look to the crowd of friends and family and see that everyone’s showed up: Alphys (spazzing out and taking pictures of everything before adding glittery filters and posting them), Papyrus, Frisk, and even Asgore. You’re glad that old fluffy-buns isn’t too cut up by this – Toriel and him have made up to an extent and he’s starting to move on, which you’re somewhat ashamed to admit being thankful for, because you never wanted to compete with a 6’6” monarch who’s already leaps and bounds better of a guy than you. The rest of the congregation is comprised of every monster Frisk had met in the Underground, packing the place to the brim of its maximum capacity limit.

            You brush the thought away as the doors at the end of the hall slowly shift open and the gathering turns to face it. Toriel is being led down the aisle, _*oh crap, she’s freaking stunning!_ you swear in your mind as you attempt to sink into your tuxedo for protection and begin to hyperventilate. Gaster volunteered to be the one to lead her down the aisle, seeing as how he’s the most-likely candidate, with his age and previous (although forgotten) closeness to the royal family. You intake a shaky breath and try to steel yourself for her imminent arrival to the altar, but it does little to still your rattling bones.

            Gaster cheekily winks to you as he releases Toriel’s elbow and takes his seat in the front row, thankfully you and Alphys had been able to help him scrape the rest of that gunk off his suit and body. Her face is still shrouded under a diaphanous, white veil which somehow miraculously reflects the light and keeps her features hidden as if the material were completely opaque. The sound of someone clearing their throat to your right signals the start of the ceremony, prompting both of you to turn towards the nervous-looking human officiating the wedding.

            “U-um… Are we ready to begin… the wedding, that is?” he questions, prying his priest’s collar from his neck with an index finger, exhaling a ragged breath before opening the book in his hands and beginning to read.

            His recitation of the words is drowned out by the blood rushing in your ears as your life up to this point flashes before your eyes: all the heartache, timeline shenanigans, and the laughs you had along the way all blend together, both freezing the moment in time and causing it to fast-forward at break-neck speeds. “You may now… present the rings!” the poor guy looks like he’s liable to burst at the seams.

            Papyrus hands you her ring and Toriel retrieves yours, yours being a simple, rubber ring (how else would it stay on your phalange?) and hers being an exquisitely-made metal band, which you chose to inscribe on the inside with “Knock knock, Tori”. You place her ring onto her left hand as she does the same to you, both of you looking into each other’s eyes - or you try to as best you can with that freaking veil obstructing the view.

            “Do you take,” he gulps, rushing slightly in the second part of his sentence, “Toriel… as your lawfully-wedded wife?”

            “*you’re damn right i do.” you enunciate perfectly, despite not expecting to say those exact words aloud. At least it causes a slight chuckle to rumble through the gathering and succeeds in making Toriel giggle from underneath her headdress.

            Only now does the priest start to warm up to the idea of a monster wedding as he seems to physically still his vocal tremors and prevent the stunting of his speech, “Well then, do you take Sans, the skeleton, as your lawfully-wedded husband?”

            “Yes, I do.” Even if it was apparent she’d say yes, all the pressure is lifted from you and your soul soars at hearing her say it aloud, her voice practically bubbling over in anticipation.

            “Then, with no one claiming any reason to stop this marriage-…” Undyne cuts him off, causing him to jump back with his hand across his chest, mumbling a frantic prayer.

            “IF ANYONE SAYS ANYTHING, I SWEAR I’LL…” Undyne trails off, realizing that no one would ever dream of contesting the proceedings and she chooses to quietly sit back down at the organ and continue the melody from where she left off.

            “Then…” the priest wipes his forehead of the sweat beginning to bead up, seemingly having lost all his nerve at Undyne’s outburst, “I now pronounce you…!” he looks around skittishly, expecting some other interruption, “Man and wife! Or skeleton and goat! Whichever you prefer!” He covers his head and ducks down as the crowd erupts into clapping; Toriel swiftly removes her veil, picks you up like it’s nothing, and kisses you deeply, which you quickly return at a higher intensity than she expects, which causes her to moan in surprise before attempting to return it to you in the same capacity.

            Fireworks crackle and burst inside your skull as the crowd continues their merriment and cheering. An eternity passes before the kiss ends and she places you back onto the floor, causing you to stumble as you attempt to regain your footing.

            You take Toriel’s hand and face the crowd to wink, before turning back to her and, deeply gazing into her eyes, whisper, “*i got really lucky this time around, tori.”

            “Don’t think of it like that, Sans! I will have no such talk,” you avert your eyes in chagrin, before Toriel softly applies her hand to your jaw to move your eyes back onto her, “But… that being said, I believe you do not give yourself enough credit.” Your soul flutters and shifts at the loving look she gives you, “I am the one who’s so lucky. An old lady like me, finding love after so long.”

            The room begins to clear out as you search for the right words to express how you really feel for her, “*nah, t, i’m the one who got an insanely banging catch like you.” Toriel bites her lip and blushes, tugging at your heartstrings again, “*can’t say much other than that, seems this is one of the rare time words fail me. guess you just got that effect on me, huh?” You wink and shrug it off lazily, causing her to giggle into her free palm.

            She recovers quickly and guides you to the wedding hall, “Oh, I’m very intrigued by this effect, Sans~,” She offers a devilish grin, clearly thinking of all the possibilities, “Come now. Let us join the others before they realize they’ve left the bride and groom behind.” Your thoughts buzz like a hive as you process what you just said, _*yeah… we’re finally married!_

            You don’t say it aloud of course, you don’t trust your mouth at this point, so you settle for a low chuckle and a quiet, most-likely inaudible, “*yeah…”

            She turns back periodically to bathe you in her smile, before facing forward again and increasing her pace, clearly showing her excitement over the festivities beginning to formulate in the next room.

            “*i love you, t.”

            “I love you too, Sans.”

            Frisk rushes up to you as you enter the hall and they sign to be picked up, which you oblige and they sign out, _Guess you’re my for-real dad now, huh, Sans?_ “*looks like it, kiddo. question is, are you up to that?”

            Little deliberation plays across their features before they sign out, _As long as you and mom are happy, dad, I’m happy._ You didn’t think you could be filled with anymore pride and divine joy, but at that moment, the overwhelming rush of ecstasy that overtakes you is almost as euphoric as your and Toriel’s kiss… almost; and from here on out, everything will be fine so long as you have Toriel, Frisk, Papyrus, your dad, and all your friends to be there with you every step of the way.

            You and Toriel join in on the fun and you dance late into the night, despite your terrible rhythm and god-awful sense of timing. Toriel assures you through the night that you’re doing fine, and with a smile like hers, it’s hard to contest such genuine compliments. The night fades into the morning and you can’t remember the last time you were so happy to miss sleep. But it’s worth it. It’s worth it because it’s her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's... done. I'm relieved and defeated at the same time. Like I said, my girlfriend is the only reason I had anything to write about. She really "a-muse-es" me... heh. Also! Thank you! Yes, you! The amazing person that chose to read this whole thing to the end! If you enjoyed, bookmark, kudos, or maybe comment on how ya liked it. I'd say give some constructive criticisms, but at this point, with how I've agonized over this story, this is as close to perfection as I get, assuming something didn't go horribly wrong.


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